Work Text:
Sid sat for a moment at his desk, of half a mind to put his thoughts to paper, then rose to his feet again. He couldn’t settle. Should he go to Malkin’s room? He didn’t know what the customs were in Russia; it would be a shame to err in some way and get off to a bad start on the very first evening of their marriage.
Malkin. Crosby, now: Evgeni, Lord Halifax. He had the title his parents had married him off for, and Sid had access to the Malkin fortune in exchange. Everyone was satisfied, except for perhaps Evgeni. Sid had no insight into his thoughts on the matter, as Evgeni spoke at most five words of English. They’d had to bring an interpreter from London for the wedding ceremony, and Evgeni had listened intently to the man’s words before speaking his responses in his low, careful voice. He had smiled at Sid several times. Likely he wasn’t entirely unhappy.
Sid paced the room. He was in his nightshirt and felt foolish. He ought to have remained dressed. But he hadn’t wanted his valet in the room in case Malkin came in. Evgeni.
He sat at the desk again. The door adjoining his room to Evgeni’s opened, and Sid shot to his feet, his hands uselessly smoothing the front of his nightshirt.
Evgeni smiled at him from the doorway, his expression a little uncertain. He was in his own nightshirt, his bare feet peeking from beneath the hem. He held a candle in a holder, and after a quick glance around the room set it on the mantel above Sid’s hearth. The fire roared behind the grate. It was June, but unseasonably cold, and the evenings bore a sharp chill that seeped through every crevice in the stones of Sid’s ancestral home.
“Hello,” Evgeni said, his face still turned toward the mantel.
“Hello,” Sid replied. He rubbed his palms against his thighs. He hoped that he and Evgeni would like each other; he wanted to have a good marriage, like his parents did, full of companionship and laughter. He hoped to begin well.
Evgeni turned again and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. He offered Sid another wavery smile and crossed the room to perch on the edge of the bed. Sid’s valet had turned down the bedding, and the sight of Evgeni seated on the bare linen-covered mattress made Sid’s stomach lurch.
“We don’t have to,” Sid said. “Tonight. I’m sure you’ll still tired from your journey.” Evgeni had arrived in London from St. Petersburg only two days prior. “We can sleep, only. Or you can sleep in your own bed. You’d likely sleep better that way.”
Evgeni blinked at him. “Yes?”
Sid was a fool; he knew Evgeni couldn’t understand him, but here he was babbling along anyway. “Forgive me,” he said. Evgeni was here for one reason; he knew what was expected of him. Of both of them. Sid drew in a breath, let it out, and began to unbutton his nightshirt.
Evgeni watched him for a moment and then moved his hands to the fastenings of his own nightshirt. Sid stepped forward and stopped him before he could pull the nightshirt over his head. They would both be nude, and then what? There was no reason to rush the proceedings.
“I’ll make this good for you,” Sid promised Evgeni’s blank face. “I’ll try my hardest.” He took Evgeni’s hand in his own and stroked his thumb over the palm. It was a large hand with long fingers, and a writing callus on the middle finger from holding a pen. Sid turned Evgeni’s hand palm-up and gently traced the long line curving down toward Evgeni’s wrist.
Evgeni’s shaky inhalation caught Sid’s attention. He glanced up. Evgeni watched him with parted lips and dark eyes, and his chest expanded with a deep breath as Sid repeated his movement, tracing from below Evgeni’s index finger around the ball of his thumb, and just beneath the cuff of his nightshirt, over the tender wrist. The skin was thin and sensitive there, and Evgeni responded beautifully, his eyelashes fluttering as Sid rubbed along the tendons of his wrist.
“How is that?” Sid asked, certain of the answer. Holding Evgeni’s gaze the whole while, he brought Evgeni’s hand to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to the palm.
“Crosby,” Evgeni said, his voice slightly rough. His eyes dropped for a moment before returning to Sid’s. “Sidney.”
“Yes,” Sid said. He repositioned to kiss Evgeni’s wrist. “How do I call you? Evgeni?”
Evgeni smiled. “No. Zhenya. For—” He gestured between them with his free hand. “For, ah.” He shrugged. “Zhenya.”
“Very well,” Sid said. He released Evgeni’s hand—Zhenya’s—and smoothed his wavy brown hair back from his forehead. “Zhenya. May I kiss you?”
Zhenya couldn’t understand him. Sid made his intentions known in the only way he could, with the signals of his body. He cupped Zhenya’s face in both hands and moved closer, so that he was standing between Zhenya’s parted knees. He stroked his thumbs over Zhenya’s cheekbones and bent to place a kiss to one of them. “Let me kiss you,” he breathed, and Zhenya made a soft noise and tilted his face upward.
They had kissed once before, in the church, after they spoke their vows and were wed. That kiss had lasted for only a moment, only long enough for Sid to note, dimly, that Zhenya had a soft mouth. This kiss was much longer, a careful exploration of Zhenya’s mouth, which was very soft indeed, with full, plush lips that opened sweetly for the first gentle brush of Sid’s tongue. Sid sighed contentedly and settled in to enjoy himself.
When he drew back at length, Zhenya’s cheeks were flushed a faint pink and his mouth was open and wet, shining in the candlelight. He blinked up at Sid and licked his bottom lip, and Sid had to bend again to kiss him, captivated by the soft pink swell of Zhenya’s lips.
Zhenya pulled back after another minute and shifted around to draw his feet up onto the bed and lie back against the pillows. With his nightshirt open halfway to his navel, he made a tempting picture, and Sid was sorely tempted. He was allowed to be: this was his husband, tall and upright, with a smile that warmed Sid through. He found Zhenya very pleasing, and hoped Zhenya might feel similarly about him.
He joined Zhenya on the bed, going around the other side to lie next to Zhenya on the mattress, stretched out on his side: not too close, but close enough to touch if Zhenya gave some encouragement. They did need to consummate the marriage, but it didn’t have to be tonight. He was content to wait a few days until Zhenya was more comfortable, if that was what Zhenya preferred. Tonight they could only kiss and get to know each other a little.
But Zhenya shifted closer as Sid lay beside him, his eyes creasing in a smile. He took Sid’s hand and brought it to his mouth to press a careful kiss to the knuckles, and tugged gently, drawing Sid toward him.
Sid had never been with a virgin before, but Zhenya was less shy than Sid had feared. He sat up to give Zhenya a kiss and Zhenya drew him down, and soon they were tangled together in the pillows and Sid was exploring both the soft skin behind Zhenya’s ear and the sweet, startled noises Zhenya made as Sid kissed him there.
Zhenya was warm but still beneath him, his hands politely resting on Sid’s shoulders as Sid nuzzled at his ear. “Zhenya,” Sid murmured into his soap-smelling skin. They were strangers, but now they were family. Sid wanted to know him in every way, intimately, as a lover did, and Zhenya seemed amenable. Sid sucked gently on his earlobe and Zhenya made a sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening where they lay.
“Do you know how two men lie together?” Sid asked him, his lips pressed to Zhenya’s ear. “There are many ways. Shall I show you one of them?”
Zhenya blinked up at him. Sid tugged Zhenya’s nightshirt from his shoulder, drawing it down his arm to bare one flat nipple, small and tight. Sid ran his thumb over it, then bent to apply his mouth, and Zhenya made that noise in his throat again. He was delicious. Thus far the evening was going much better than Sid had hoped.
Sid sat up and ran his hands down Zhenya’s body, skimming over his hips through his nightshirt. With Zhenya’s assistance, he pushed the fabric up toward Zhenya’s waist, baring his long legs and half hard cock, flushed red in its thatch of dark hair. Sid wanted to taste him there, and to flip him over and taste his entrance, and to spend himself between those muscular, almost hairless thighs. He had many appetites, but tonight he wanted to do what was expected of him, so that he could say the marriage was consummated and all was as it should be.
Well. Almost what was expected.
He rose from the bed and removed his nightshirt, conscious of Zhenya’s dark eyes watching him. He was fully erect, aroused more by the thought of what was to come than their gentle kissing, and as Zhenya looked at him he reached down to take himself in hand and stroke ungently, drawing back the foreskin to bare the tender crown. A drop of clear fluid leaked from the tip as he imagined pressing into Zhenya’s tight, untouched hole and seeing Zhenya’s worried expression ease into wonder as he learned how good his body could feel. There would be time for that when Zhenya trusted him more. For now, he would ensure that someone was breached with someone else’s member, and in that way fulfill the strict letter of the law if not entirely the spirit.
He had set the oil in a drawer beside the bed in anticipation of the night’s events. He took the flask out now and removed the stopper. Zhenya’s eyes widened and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Don’t worry,” Sid assured him, but the slight furrow of Zhenya’s brow didn’t ease. Well, he would understand soon enough.
There was no need for Zhenya to remove his nightshirt. Sid left him be. He lay on the bed again, on his back this time with his legs parted, and took Zhenya’s hand. “Come,” he said, “turn toward me,” and tugged until Zhenya did. He drew Zhenya’s hand between his thighs, but Zhenya very obviously didn’t understand Sid’s intentions, and his hand was an inert paw, the fingers curled into a loose fist.
No matter. Sid could do all of this himself. He released Zhenya and reached for the oil. “Watch,” he said, and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
He gave his fingers a thorough coating and reached between his legs. He was aroused enough that even the first cautious stroke felt good. He rubbed at himself in slow circles, spreading the oil and letting his body get used to the idea. Not that he needed much warming up. Sid liked to think of himself as a man of diverse tastes.
By now, Zhenya had sat up to stare. His gaze darted between Sid’s face and his working hand. Sid had been told he was an intelligent man, and surely there could be no ambiguity now about what Sid intended.
“Would you like to help?” Sid asked, reaching his free hand to touch Zhenya’s. “Look.” He pressed one finger inside his body, all the way to the knuckle, and Zhenya drew in a sharp breath.
Zhenya said something in Russian which Sid couldn’t understand. His eyebrows were up. Sid could guess at his thoughts, but he wasn’t inclined to explain or apologize, even if he and Zhenya were able to communicate. If Zhenya wasn’t interested, he was free to return to his own room, or they could conduct this matter in the more traditional way.
But Zhenya didn’t leave. He shifted to kneel between Sid’s parted thighs and watched intently as Sid fucked himself with his fingers. The size and shape of his hard cock were obvious even through his nightshirt, making Sid push his fingers in deeper. After a minute of that, Zhenya said something and touched the back of Sid’s hand.
“You’re welcome to have a go,” Sid said, his voice coming out breathy and low. His chest was flushed warm even in the chill of the room. He hadn’t taken anyone to his bed since his engagement—it seemed improper, even though he hadn’t met Zhenya in person until the morning of their wedding—and it was possible he wouldn’t even last until the main event.
He drew his hand away and let Zhenya touch him with hesitant fingertips. He was soft and open, and slick enough with oil that Zhenya’s dry fingers slid in without resistance. They were long and thick and Sid tightened around them without intending to. Zhenya sucked in a breath and spoke one harsh word, likely a curse.
“That’s good,” Sid said, feeling that Zhenya needed some reassurance. “You can keep going if you’d like. Or—” He drew one knee toward his chest, opening himself to Zhenya’s hot stare. “I’m more than ready for you now.”
Zhenya’s eyes were wide as he searched Sid’s face. His full mouth hung open as his fingers stroked in deep. He said something that sounded like a question, then shook his head in rueful resignation. They would learn to speak to each other someday, but for tonight they would have to use other means.
Sid reached down to grasp Zhenya’s wrist. “Come now,” he said, and Zhenya nodded, his cheeks flushed painfully hot.
Zhenya sat back on his heels and removed his nightshirt. Sid was pleased to take in the sight of his unclothed body, although Zhenya too quickly lay down in Sid’s arms, removing Sid’s chance for inspection. They had time, Sid reminded himself. A whole lifetime.
Once he had situated himself, Zhenya began to thrust his hips seemingly at random, his cock glancing off Sid’s groin and inner thighs and balls, and then catching at last on Sid’s hole, at which point he began to push inside. “Wait, stop,” Sid yelped, pressing his hands against Zhenya’s shoulders, and Zhenya froze and frowned down at him. “Let’s oil you,” Sid explained, and reached for the flask.
With that taken care of, Zhenya sank in easily, a smooth glide that made Sid’s toes curl against the sheets. Zhenya was warm above him, the span of his back broad when Sid wrapped his arms around it. Zhenya did not, it was clear, know what he was doing, but his first cautious thrusts felt so good that Sid fully intended to consummate their marriage again in the morning, just to be sure the deed was done. He turned his head to press his face against Zhenya’s throat and breathe in the smell of him, faintly tinged with sweat now.
“Sidney,” Zhenya said, his accent turning Sid’s name strange and sweet. His hips moved in another jerky thrust. Sid looked forward to training him to do this exactly in accordance with Sid’s preferences, but for a first attempt, he had no complaints. The fullness and the deep drag of the flared crown of Zhenya’s cock had him sweating, and the familiar tightness in his hips meant he wouldn’t last. And that was just right, Sid thought, for their first night. Let it be done and done well enough, and tomorrow they would begin learning how to truly please each other.
“I, ah,” Zhenya said. He went still, then laughed a little, without humor.
Sid could guess at his thoughts. “It’s all right. I want you to.” He ran his hands down Zhenya’s back to stroke over the plump swell of his rear. Yes, he would enjoy showing Zhenya that pleasure for the first time.
Zhenya sighed but began moving again. Sid closed his eyes and clamped his thighs around Zhenya’s waist, his body tensing as his peak neared. But Zhenya’s came first; the rhythm of Zhenya’s hips went unsteady, and with a soft cry he dropped his head and filled Sid with his spend.
Sid was too close himself to wait. He reached between their bodies and rubbed ungently at what he could reach of his cock. As Zhenya went limp on top of him, he shook and shuddered and spilled over his own belly.
There. It was done, and they were married.
Sid smiled, his eyes still closed. He was not at all dissatisfied by this circumstance he’d found himself in.
Zhenya stirred above him. Sid reached up to pat his mussed hair. Zhenya offered him a shy smile, then even more shyly bent his head to press his mouth to Sid’s in a careful kiss.
Sid cupped the back of his head to hold him there for another kiss, then another. He wished more than anything that he and Zhenya could converse, because there was so much he longed to say to Zhenya now, and in the morning, and on every day that followed.
Zhenya sighed. “Sidney,” he said, and wrinkled his nose.
“We’ll begin our language lessons now, shall we?” Sidney asked. He kissed Zhenya again, the soft curve of his mouth, the curve of his cheek. “Your first word: husband.”